A Hand in Shadow
by La Copine
Summary: Martine has always had problems with real life. Things were never as interesting or adventurous as the novels she read, until the day someone decided to shake up her bland little world. Martine is determined to find out who and maybe have an adventure too


I sat on my bed and watched a flock of birds change course outside my window. They changed course a few more times before swooping down and flying off into the distance, behind the many tall buildings situated in Paris. The sun rise showed a brilliant array of reds and oranges.

In the book I was currently reading, a deformed man named Quasimodo often sits atop Notre-Dame and watches sun rise from high up in the tallest bell tower. I was on the fourth story of the Opera Populaire and did not have the most marvelous view, but it made me I wonder what this view would be like from a bell tower.

Being the bell ringer of a cathedral wouldn't be so bad, I thought. There are lots of places to explore, lots of free time, and the bells always sound so beautiful. Sometimes if I strained, I could hear the bells chime from across the city from Notre-Dame.

Then I remembered Quasimodo was deaf.

"I suppose that would make hearing the bells more difficult…" I mused stupidly. _Notre-Dame du Paris _sat open in my lap and I closed it as got up from my bed, quiet so as not to wake the others.

I roomed with the other female members of the tech crew in the Opera Populaire. Many of them were older than I, and didn't like to be woken up. I ran as quietly to the bathroom so I could be the first to bathe.

I drew a bath and disrobed, slipping into the worn copper tub. I didn't like bathing with the other women. I'm actually not very disturbed about being naked: the human body is perfect. I find it awkward to sing in the bath if others are around.

I am not the best singer. Not by a long shot. But I enjoy it. I like to try sounding like the girls that are in the chorus. Sometimes I can. Sometimes I try to sing underwater. Well, I did once, because I learned my lesson.

I belt out my last couple of notes from an aria from an old opera and grab my towel to dry myself off. I was putting my dress on when the others finally started to stir and watched as they started to dart for the bathroom, as there were only three baths installed.

I brushed out my straight, brown hair and braided it down my back. How badly I wished it was curly! Then it wouldn't be so flat and stick to my face. After brooding a little for my want to be prettier, I decided to go downstairs and get breakfast.

If there's one thing that this building was full of, it's stairs. I climbed down so many flights of them my feet were starting to hurt. I finally got to the mess hall, located on the second floor. This is where all the important people lived so that they could get midnight snacks and not have to go through a labyrinth for it.

I sat down at one of the long tables and helped myself to boiled eggs, potatoes, and corned beef hash. Eventually my friend, Cosette, joined me at the table and grabbed her own plate.

"I don't see why you wake up so early." She yawned and stretched. "You go to bed so late I don't see how you sleep at all."

"It's so I get my fill of breakfast." I lied and stuffed another egg in my mouth. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fitfully." She replied and brushed a stray bang out of her face. "You?"

"Some really weird dreams, I must say. I dreamed I was flying."

"Again? Martine, I'm starting to think that you were born to the wrong body." She giggled and began to cut her eggs into bite sized pieces like a lady as I stuffed another whole egg into my mouth.

"Are you ready for the opening tonight?" She asked a few minutes into the meal.

I nodded. "I just need to finish Bertina's hem and set the jewelry. I should be done by the afternoon."

Cosette snorted. She always snorted when she laughed. "Good luck with that. She's the pickiest Prima Donna we've had in a while."

"I don't mind her. It's easier to avoid her slaps aimed at me than the last one." I replied, feeling my cheek.

"Don't mind them, they're just looking for someone to blame." Cosette murmured, suddenly serious.

"I know." I replied. "I'm good at what I do. I don't make mistakes."

Cosette smiled. "As long as you know that."

We finished our breakfast and walked down to the auditorium to begin today's work. Cosette worked on the wigs for the performances and when it was time, did make up. I was what they called a floater: I worked where I was needed and was often traded over to different areas of technical theater. This time I was working in costumes.

"Bertina, please stand still." I muttered and placed a spare pin in my mouth.

"I have things to do, so if you'd please hurry up!" She snapped from her pedestal. I was down on my knees trying to fix the hem of a particularly expensive ball gown.

I looked up at her. "If you'd stop moving I could do this faster."

I contemplated adding 'And while you're at it, stop talking,' but I decided not to push my luck with her. She huffed and stopped trying to walk. I strung the needle quickly and finished doing the hem in a few minutes of angry silence.

"Put on your shoes and test it out." I said and stood. Bertina huffed and put on the expensive heels we'd given her for this performance, prancing about the room. It was amazing how even in private she looked like a show pony.

"Are you quite finished? I have work to do." She snapped and tossed her head.

"Yes, it's done." I said through gritted teeth. I began unlacing the back of the dress to prevent her from damaging it as she started to wriggle out. When a lock of her hair got stuck on one of the brass pieces, I leaned in close to try to untangle it. I had just gotten it unstuck when she reared her head back and hit me, full force, in the face.

I staggered back and grabbed my nose, my eyes watering. I heard the crumpling of fabric and a huff.

"That's what you get for being too close." Bertina scowled and slammed the door behind her. I wanted to cry. I looked at my hand, covered in blood. My head began to spin as I got to the sink and tried not to look as I washed off my hands and face. Blood. Blood everywhere…

I swallowed my pain and tears as I stuffed some fabric scraps up my nose and sat down for a few seconds, hoping to settle my stomach and my head. There was some blood on the floor, which I quickly threw a rag over and dabbed it up before it set into the wood work. I picked the dress up from its heap on the floor and put it on its mannequin.

I went for the door and reached for the handle, stopping when I noticed red on my arm. Oh no…

There was blood on the dress.


End file.
